Dad Has You Covered, Whether You Want It Or Not

, , , , , , , | Related | August 20, 2019

For reasons I don’t want to get into, my relationship with my parents soured when I was in college. Among other things, they started micromanaging my life. 

For example, when I was starting a hunt for a job, my dad decided I needed a cover letter. He talked to me as I was about to go to bed — at almost midnight — telling me I needed to have a cover letter written by 9:00 the next morning. So, I got up at 8:00 — earlier than usual, and I am definitely not a morning person — and spent the next hour writing the cover letter. 

Oddly, Dad didn’t come to check on me at 9:00. I soon found out why: he’d decided to write a cover letter for me. But it was good that I’d done my assignment because now he was going to compare the two cover letters and change his to match my wording any time the two cover letters were similar. Then, he’d send me his finished draft and I would send it to potential employers!

I revised my cover letter by myself and used it without telling him. No idea what difference it made to the job hunt, but I did find a job. I have since moved out of my parents’ house and my mental health is much improved.

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If Shot In L.A. You Need To Credit The Lemon Twister, Also

, , , , , , | Related | December 8, 2018

(My father, stepmother, and I have just watched a movie. We are now watching the credits.)

Stepmother: “You know, credits used to only take up a single page.”

Me: “And now they take up like ten minutes.”

Stepmother: “Animators, ‘character rigging,’ editors… They really do credit everyone.”

Me: *jokingly* “Hey, I walked on set and gave you a coffee; put me in the credits!”

(Not ten seconds later, we see the heading, “Caffeination,” and a name is credited.)

Stepmother: “Wow, talk about perfect timing!”

Me: “I was kidding!

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Some People Woke Up On The Wrong Side Of Life

, , , , , | Right | September 23, 2018

(It is a very busy dinner rush and this family walks up. No smiles or polite small talk, already rude. I’m hard of hearing, and they start to get upset that I have to repeat questions sometimes. I finish the order and they walk away. Five minutes later the mom returns.)

Customer: “My son wants to change his order!”

(Again, it’s the middle of dinner rush, and she has cut the line that is almost to the door.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, it’s just going to take me a second because I have to void out part of the transaction and resend it through. It’ll just take a second. Is that all right?”

Customer: “I don’t see what the big deal is! People change their orders all the time.”

Me: “Okay, I just need a moment to—”

Customer: “Can you just ask someone?”

(I flag down my shift lead who just makes a quick change for her to keep the line moving. No muss no fuss. And instead of going back to her family, she decides to get on my case again.)

Customer: “I don’t think that was a big deal or a problem. I think you didn’t know what to do and you have a problem with me.”

Me: “Is there anything else I can do for you today, ma’am?”

(She walks away all huffy.)

Me: “Well, okay… Have a great night, then.”

(Guess there’s no satisfying some people.)

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